The sky cleared the next day, but the weather didn't grow warmer. In fact, the cold was so bitter it made one's fingertips ache.
It's not the snowing that's cold, but the melting—the old adage was never wrong. But this level of cold was still hard to bear.
It was simply too cold. Chen Wanqing and her mother had bundled up their heads and faces, but their noses were still running from the freeze. The cold made their eyes water, and when they spoke, puffs of condensation made it look as if they were in a celestial realm.
It was still early, and a thin layer of ice coated the ground. Every step had to be taken with extreme caution.
Chen Song had returned to the county government late the previous night, leaving the two hapless men, Zhao Jing and Chen De'an, to drive the carts.
Since Chen De'an's driving skills were a cause for concern, all the newly packed trunks were loaded onto the horse-drawn carriage he was managing. Everyone else rode in the ox-cart driven by Zhao Jing.
